


Tell It Like It Is

by jeffersonhairpin



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Gender Identity, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeffersonhairpin/pseuds/jeffersonhairpin
Summary: Marzia helps Elio explore his identity through makeup. They share a beautiful moment of acceptance and closeness, and then Annella walks in.Inspired by the line in the CMBYN book where Elio says “No one my age had ever wanted to be both man and woman – with both men and women”. I'm not good at descriptions pls read :')
Relationships: Marzia/Elio Perlman (past), Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	Tell It Like It Is

After Oliver had left – after the lethargy and the first grieving period – Elio tried to start up where he and Marzia had left off before their fateful meeting as his mother drove him home from the station that would be forever haunted to him.

He invited Marzia over to swim while his parents were out, and had just begun the process of entangling himself with her when she pulled away and asked him why he was doing what he was doing. 

Immediately Elio felt the shame of trying, blatantly, to use his best friend to move past his heartbreak when she meant so much more to him than that.

“I don’t know…” His brows pulled together, a look of concentration pinching his features. He looked to the side, taking in the darkened sky. 

Marzia placed two hands upon his waist, in an intimate but completely platonic gesture. 

“Elio, what happened with Oliver? I know something happened, you don’t need to pretend it didn’t. I don’t mind.”

Elio opened his eyes, wide in initial shock, but when he turned to face Marzia again he saw understanding in her eyes – regardless of whether he loved her back in the same way, she wanted to know him, wanted to be sure he was okay or on his way to being okay. 

_She is truly so much better than me_ , he thought. _I could never forgive someone who had jerked me around like this…_

“I…” He began, his words dying in his throat. 

Marzia’s brows drew together and upwards, urging him onwards, toward healing.

“It revealed to me so many things I never knew I wanted, a whole other side of me I didn’t know about before…” he began, seemingly unsure how to continue. “…but now it feels like that side of me has been taken away. Or, it’s still there but I don’t have access to it anymore. It feels very far away from me.”

“What did he help you access?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to name it all. It’s a lot of things, which were so all-consuming at the time, but which now I couldn’t possibly name or catalogue.”

Elio was sure he could name them perfectly well if he focused, but he’d been trying so hard not to think about any of it too much. He knew he’d have to unpack it all eventually but it just hurt too much at first.

“Pick only one; what stands out?” At her words, Elio lowered his face to her shoulder, holding her closer, though not as a lover might.

Choosing not to think, Elio spoke, muffled, into Marzia’s shoulder.

“When I was with him I felt like I could be a man or a woman, it didn’t matter which. I didn’t know if it was because I was with a man and felt I should be a woman or if I just felt that way anyway, and was only just getting the chance to explore it.”

The words came out in a nervous rush, as often they did with Elio. 

Marzia was the person he trusted the most, other than Oliver who was half a world away… but it was still like making the decision to strap himself into a roller coaster and accept the inevitable terror of the drop as he spoke.

Marzia was quiet for a few moments and he feared he had shared too much of himself. He feared that she wouldn’t understand, would tell him that he was sick – not in the admiring way Oliver had said it – and then he’d be without even the comfort that came from one who knew some, if not all of him, for the rest of his lonely time on this earth… 

His thoughts were building to a panic but after a small eternity he looked up and she spoke kindly.

“Do you want to…” Marzia breathed out, the choosing of her words clear on her face. 

“Do you want to go upstairs, for a moment?”

There was a weight in her words – she was saying something else as she asked, only Elio wasn’t entirely sure what. Nonetheless…

“…Sure.” Elio replied, confused but willing to go with anything that wasn’t a rejection. 

As they stepped out of the pool and into the evening, scarcely stopping to put on their shoes, Marzia had only an idea of what her plan was. It solidified as they made their way up the stairs. 

Taking her friend in crisis up the stairs she could tell he was surprised when she bypassed his – now and forever after, Oliver’s – room entirely, and instead led him to his mother’s vanity. 

She sat him down and turned on the small, old record player next to the vanity. She placed two hands upon his shoulders, leaning in as the soft old tune began. 

“Don’t say anything at first, please.” She almost whispered towards the end. 

Because yes, he was putting himself on the line more than she was, to allow her to do this, but she was putting herself on the line to participate in such a thing – in those days anyway.

He nodded, his eyes nervous, but clearly curious. He could tell where she was taking things before she even picked up a brush. He was excited to see how it would look, whether it would arouse him or make him feel… right, as he hadn’t since Oliver left, because maybe that was the problem. But he knew he was baring a part of his soul even most friends would never have reason or desire to see. 

They didn’t speak for a long time after the nod, but it became a companionable silence as Aaron Neville crooned. Marzia’s hand calmed its nervous jitter and Elio leaned into her soft touch, feeling an echo of Oliver’s fingers at Monet’s Berm in the sensation. He enjoyed the feeling of a soft brush pressing into his eyelids, the bristles of a mascara wand painting his lashes, the fluffiness of the large brush gently sliding powder upon his cheeks, the sweetness of a lipstick smudging life onto his paled lips…

Despite their past, Marzia suddenly felt so much more like a beloved older sister than a dear friend or deserted lover. They were closer than those things. She had always meant much to him, but in those moments she became more; irreversibly connected in ways he could not previously understand, as an only child. He knew there could never be desire between them again, but that this could only strengthen their bond.

Elio had hurt her, but Marzia knew he was in a much more compromised position than she had been, here. There was nothing but the warmth of wanting the best for one another in the air.

Stepping back she told him to open his eyes and moved the lamp back to soften the light as her best friend turned towards the vanity just to see what would happen if he did.

At first his mouth opened almost imperceptibly, his expression unreadable to Marzia. She gave him a moment to decide how he felt before leaning forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from above. In the light her hair fell softly around his face, in a way that made it look like his very own. His face went blank as he studied the delicacy of his doe-like eyes in the low light, the blush of his ever-so-slightly rouged cheeks, the softness of a gentle pink upon his full lips… All in a stunning contrast with his boyish jaw and brows.

“What do you think?” Marzia finally asked. Elio didn’t reply for a long time.

“…I don’t know.” He said honestly. “I like it. But I don’t know if I know what it means that I like it.”

“You look very pretty.” She said, still holding him as the record finished. At that he closed his eyes and leaned into her embrace, pressing their cheeks together. 

He didn’t say anything for a long time but she knew he was feeling a lot of things, so she waited.

“What are you thinking?” She finally asked.

“…I liked it when you said I was pretty.” He replied softly. “But I like being a boy as well. It doesn’t feel like it’s something finally sitting right or anything, I just know that I like this.”

“I… don’t think you have to pick one thing to be, Elio.”

He looked up at her like he’d never considered such a thing, though she knew he would have. Hearing it coming reassuringly from her mouth affected him though – perhaps he was not the only one who thought such things.

It was in the midst of that moment – two youths on the verge of understanding and adulthood, gazing at one another in a private, familial moment of revelation and discovery – that Elio’s mother walked in.

They hadn’t heard her arriving home.

Instantly the connection snapped. 

The moment was over and the rules of reality were reinstated.

Initially there was surprise on Annella’s face – she hadn’t expected anyone to be in her room when she opened the door. She certainly hadn’t expected to walk in on such an obviously private scene. Everyone froze, and there were a tense few seconds of silence.

Annella broke it. 

“I…” She began, but found herself without thoughts to articulate, or words appropriate for the situation. 

So instead, she simply looked away with a blank expression, and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

There was silence in the room, nothing but the sound of the record still spinning at the end of its play. 

They both knew something important had just happened, and the sense of uncertainty which had burst their warm, accepting bubble was jarring. Marzia was a little worried for Elio, but much more certain his mother wouldn’t care than he suddenly was.

_It’s funny how certain you are that someone will be good about something until you have to risk them being cruel about it to you._

Marzia knelt in front of Elio and took his hands. Her movement seemed to break his shock, as he ripped his hands out of hers and immediately started trying to remove her beautiful work. 

It occurred to him that half of the vulnerability of the act was that he couldn’t take it off immediately – anyone who looked at him could see this across his face. He tried to get rid of it but he knew nothing of these things and merely smeared it around his eyes, his sudden tears running tracks through it all. 

In that moment he hated Oliver. 

Maybe he hadn’t cost him Marzia but what if his mother couldn’t accept this, couldn’t love a son who… who…

Marzia stilled his hands and looked into his eyes. He immediately looked away, embarrassed, but she lifted a hand to guide him back. 

“I’ll take it off for you Elio, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. They already know about Oliver.” She spoke gently, wisely, as though calming a spooked horse.

Elio sniffled, his nose turning red. 

“But what if this is too far? What if she could accept that but not this?”

“You’ll have to talk to her, but I don’t think that’s going to be the case, Elio.”

 _“Please just take it off.”_ He whispered with a tremor, closing his eyes. 

Marzia nodded and did as he asked, slowly and gently. He never stopped crying, but the makeup was gone after a few moments, the only sign that it had ever been there the tears on his face. 

“I’m going to go now, because I think you need to talk to your mother, but…” she sighed, choosing her words. “Don’t let this experience ruin this for you. It was something special, tonight.”

Elio rose and hugged her tightly, nodding into her shoulder.

“I promise.”

Marzia nodded and disappeared down the staircase, leaving Elio standing in the middle of his mother’s bedroom. He put everything back where he thought it belonged and stopped the record player, before reluctantly making his way down the stairs – the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk about it. 

He found his mother reading on one of the many lounges downstairs. 

She looked up with a blank, but warm expression as he entered, his body language clearly conveying his uncertainty. 

“Hello _tesoro_.” She greeted him affectionately, patting the space next to her.

Awash with relief, Elio rushed over and curled up, fitting neatly against her side as she placed an arm around him. She squeezed him for a moment before pulling back, placing her book down on the arm of the lounge. 

“I’m sorry.” He said tearfully, not quite knowing why he said it, but feeling like something needed to be said.

“You have nothing to worry about from me Elio. I’m here if you want to tell me something but you don’t need to explain yourself to me.” She gently rubbed a hand across her son’s shoulders as he calmed his breath. “I only left because it looked like a private moment, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

She left a moment for her reassurances to sink in before speaking again.

“What are you sorry for?” She asked.

“I just…” He let out a long breath. “I know I’m not the easiest son in the world to have, and then there was Oliver and now this…” He didn’t finish his thought, not voicing his secret fear of being somehow wrong or defective, which had reared its head the morning after he slept with Oliver the first time. He’d always been easy going about these things but this felt like a step too far in some strange way.

“Oh, Elio…” Annella sighed, leaning the side of her head against her son’s. “If we wanted easy we wouldn’t have had a child at all.” She laughed. “But… you’re not a difficult child, Elio, you’re wonderful. We couldn’t be more proud of you if we tried, you know that – where’s this coming from?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face to wipe away his tears.

“I don’t know, there’s just a lot going on right now. Nothing feels solid… I’m scared.” 

“You’re growing up _tesoro_. It is a scary thing.” 

They stayed there for a few moments longer, comfortable in their silence and comfortable in their closeness. But eventually Elio spoke in a small, but steady voice.

“Are you going to tell papa?”

“I don’t know what there is to tell, _piccolo_.” She replied, honestly.

“…I suppose you’re right.”

“I often am.” She laughed softly. 

“…Thank you, maman.” 

She hummed.

“ _Je t’aime_ Elio.”

“ _Je t’aime, maman_.”

Later that evening, Samuel returned and Annella invited him to sit down and share a glass of wine with her while she listened to Elio play.

She huffed a little laugh as she listened, thinking about how her funny, curious, precocious little boy could think she would mind him wearing her makeup, and thinking of the funny, curious, precocious person he would grow up to be.

Samuel raised a brow at her, silently asking _what are you laughing about?_

She just shook her head with a smile, and took a sip of her wine as the music continued into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic ever :D Any constructive criticism is welcome and comments give me life!  
> The song played in the fic is Tell It Like It Is by Aaron Neville - great song.


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